


Return of Destiny

by DarkMage13



Category: Guild Wars 2 (Video Game), Guild Wars Series (Video Games)
Genre: All Canon Relationships Apply - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M Relationship Focus, Fix-It, Gen, Multi, Romance is Sideplot Only, canon re-write, mild violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-29
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-08-09 17:25:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16454204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkMage13/pseuds/DarkMage13
Summary: Five years after the legendary guild Destiny’s Edge had broken to pieces, new heroes appear to come and reclaim Tyria from the dragons. A Valiant of the Wyld Hunt, a murderous assassin, a simple noblewoman, a brilliant Warmaster, and a scholar of Orr, must band together and unite the many races before the Elder Dragon Zhaitan destroys them all. A Guild Wars 2 Fix Fic.





	1. Awakening

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my Guild Wars 2 fanfiction! A few notes:
> 
> -Return of Destiny encompasses all of Guild Wars 2 Personal Story.  
> -This story has Original Characters. If you don't like original characters getting major focus I suggest turning back now.  
> -This is a story that is attempting to fix some issues with Personal Story that many had grievances with, so canon divergence is going to occur but for the most part this is canon compliant with the in-game lore.  
> -You do not need to have studied any of the lore or read any of the books to enjoy this story.

_Part I: The Call_

_Chapter 1: Awakening._

* * *

A long time ago, the stir of a dragon beneath the depths shook the world at its core. Tyria was devastated piece by piece, as each dragon one by one awoke. The darkness encroached upon all, and only through unity can the world know true peace without the dragons.

My friends disbanded so long ago. I wander the world now, the memories of once was, the pain of falling to pieces, lingers within me. But I will not falter. I will tell this tale, to pass on in memory. No one shall forget the sacrifices.

This was their story.

* * *

_They call for the Chosen._

A woman with hair the color of blood snapped awake. The room was pitch black. Her velvet blanket was sprawled over her body.

She looked to her bedside stand, feeling around for the tip of the candle and sparked a flame to life with a snap. The room illuminated, the woman pushed aside her covers and grabbed her shawl off a chair next to her stand. Holding the candle in her grip, she pondered the voice as she moved across the room. Who exactly was this voice? Who called out to her in the void?

Chosen, that was a title she hadn't heard in a long time. She nearly stumbled down the stairs, lost in thought. Chosen, Chosen, Chosen. It was a legend from so long ago.

She stopped halfway down the staircase and faced the empty wall to her left. Pushing her weight on it, the fake wall clicked and moved. Holding the candle in hand, she entered the dusty room. The ceiling had the constellations of the night sky painted on it, the stars glowed white dots and the blue of the wisps of clouds and galaxies were enchanted to move and swirl. A bookshelf lined one of the walls, filled with tomes gathered over the generations. The woman examined the lineup of books. An old rusty book worn from age and had faded gold lining stood out. The label was "The Chosen, Closer to the Stars." She pulled the tome out and opened it to the index. Her mother would read this story to her every night as a child. Scanning the index, she found the section on the legendary Flameseeker Prophecies.

The chapter detailed Glint, a dragon of yore, who wrote the prophecy of the Chosen who would undermine the Mursaat.

The chosen who fulfilled this destiny was the woman's ancestor: Shiori, and also her namesake.

Shiori held in her grip the tome and left the library to get fresh air on her balcony. The night sky was at its darkest. Dawn would come soon. She looked to the stars, remaining constant. The lights of the sleeping city of Divinity's Reach were dim as to not overshadow the sky.

Shiori pondered the destiny of the Chosen. There was no Flameseeker Prophecies anymore. It was fulfilled and no more were written, as far as history knew. Glint had died five years prior. Yet, it was a calling to something for Shiori. Something beyond the troubles of Kryta and Divinity's Reach. Beyond the ending war between humanity and charr.

She was restless. Complacency was dull. Nobility was luxury for nothing despite her advocacy. The Chosen 250 years previous had a hand in the fate of the world. She knew then, that the threat that hung the world's fate in the balance was more serious than she thought.

The Elder Dragons must fall.

She would set out in the morning.

* * *

A white glaze of fog hung low in the air. Everything was vivid but fuzzy. In the haze of the green warm forest stood a sylvari formed with black bark, teal markings on her chest and legs and in her veins and muscles were strips of a white luminescent glow that only revealed itself at night. Her armor consisted of dark blue bark and mint green leaves.

She knew her name before she could even speak. Gwyneth.

She walked forward in the forest. A centaur talked of his virtues to others like her.

"Where life goes, so too should you," the centaur said with absolution.

"Where life goes, so too should you," Gwyneth said out loud to herself. She followed forward, a green knight running forward up a hill. She chased after the knight but he vanished from sight.

A shadow figure stood before a cliff. A greatsword made of the night and daylight sky was in their grip. "Hello?" Gwyneth called out to the shadow. They simply vanished. "Hmm…"

She turned around and others like her, other sylvari were trembling along the hill. Something, she felt something encroach upon the Dream. Something sinister and cold. It felt like it was closing in on her mind. She was vulnerable.

"Ebrox!" one sapling said to a sylvari shielding them.

The defender stood his ground. "Listen to me, saplings! You can fight this poison. Look around you. See the branches and the rocks? Take up the bounty of the land. Anything can be a weapon if you have the courage to fight."

Mean plant dogs viciously attacked them. Gwyneth picked up the vined thistle greatsword by her feet without a second thought and charged the sinister creatures. She killed them, the creatures flopping on their backs as the life faded from their thorny bodies.

"You okay?" she said to a purple sylvari, extending a hand out to her.

"Y-Yeah, I don't know why the hounds attacked me," she responded as she took Gwyneth's hand and stood up. "What's happening? Why are we being attacked?"

"I don't know. I've never felt anything like this. It's awful," Gwyneth spoke to her.

"Please, help," the sapling pleaded.

"You there, sapling. I sense great danger. Come and listen, so you can defend yourself," a cool voice called in the distance. Gwyneth snapped her head around to search for the source. A sylvari in dark green clothes and white leaves for hair waved to her. Gwyneth was confused. She could see right through the figure. The warrior walked over.

"Who are you? What's happening? And why are you so transparent?" Gwyneth asked, putting her greatsword on her back.

"I am Caithe," the transparent sylvari introduced herself. "I am in Tyria, a land far away. Soon, you'll awaken here, but for now, you live in the Dream. I can't explain right now. We must hurry. Something is poisoning the Dream."

Gwyneth frowned. "Poisoning the Dream? Is that why there are sinister hounds here?"

"Yes."

"Of course, I will do whatever I can to help you. But why me?" Gwyneth asked. "I'm not even able to use a blade with great proficiency yet."

"Your spirit is strong. Do not underestimate yourself. Head to the far embankment, and I'll meet you there. Hurry. We must find the source." Caithe took off running through the forest. Gwyneth chased after her, determined to find this source harming the Dream.

Across a bridge of vines into a wide clearing, Gwyneth felt it beneath her feet. The poison's roots spread deep in the ground.

Caithe stopped as a creature made of rotten tree roots and vines burst forth from the ground. "That's the darkness intruding upon the Dream," she told Gwyneth. "Show courage and be a beacon in the darkness, dreamer."

The warrior got her blade ready. "I'm ready for whatever this darkness throws at me." An itch grew in her heart. The Dream was calling out to her amidst this rising darkness. The sylvari was compelled to fight this beast.

The creature spread its twisted wings, decaying leaves falling off of it. A dragon.

"Something happening," gasped Caithe. "I feel…" Caithe's translucent form became corporeal. She looked at her hands. "The Pale Tree has breathed her strength into me. She's made me tangible—but only for a few moments."

Gwyneth charged in at the dragon. "We shall fight this poison together!" She ran up and bashed her sword into the head of the dragon. It wailed in anger.

Caithe threw her dagger at its claws, tearing at the bark. "Victory is just a breath away!"

Gwyneth jumped up onto its wounded grasp, climbing up the limb like a tree. Her valor shall not waver. It shall not fail. The poison will wither and die whence it came from. She climbed onto the head and stabbed her great sword into the dragon's wooden skull.

Still, even then her job was not done.

"Dreamer!" Caithe called out to her, the dragon flailing about as it struggled to keep moving. Gwyneth wobbled, falling off the dragon's head. The fog was lifting. Everything was no longer a dream.

"No…" she moaned. "I must…keep fighting!"

Teal eyes snapped open. She was trapped in something. Gwyneth felt dizzy.

A hand reached out to her in the pod. A hand wearing thorned gloves. "Sapling?" a low, serious voice spoke. It was lower than Caithe's, but still feminine.

Gwyneth reached out for the hand. She was lifted up from her pod. Warmth encompassed the air. The bright light of high noon shined down outside of the little shaded area they were in.

Another sylvari, one with tan and green leaves helped to steady her.

"Where am I?" Gwyneth immediately asked. She did not hesitate to jump to the point. "I was fighting a great evil…Are we safe? Caithe? Where is Caithe?"

The sylvari that wore the thorned gloves chuckled. "A noon bloom for sure."

Gwyneth took in full view of the one who reached out to her. She wore black leaves with a hood obscuring her hair and most of her face. Her bark was the same tone as the garb she wore. On her hood was a single golden pendant.

"Easy sapling, you just woke," the other sylvari spoke, gentle to the last syllable. "I'm Mender Serimon. Caithe was just here but she had to go speak to the Pale Tree."

"She and I fought against a poison in the Dream…" Gwyneth struggled to put the images and visions into words. So much she saw, so little ways to explain it. "I saw the shadow of a terrible dragon and the Dream called…Calls upon me to defeat it. "

The dark sylvari frowned.

Serimon was ecstatic. "By the Tree! A Wyld Hunt so soon? And such a momentous task. To be a Valiant of the Wyld Hunt is a difficult charge. Bear this calling with pride."

"I will, but how do I begin?" Gwyneth pondered. "One does not simply awaken and rush off to face a dragon."

"You start here in our forest," the mender pointed to the dark sylvari. "Melaine can show you around."

Melaine nodded. "What's your name, sapling?"

There was something strange about this sylvari, but Gwyneth couldn't put her finger on it. "Gwyneth."

* * *

Shiori packed her satchel full of food, two books, a journal, and her money. She left a will in her room dedicating where the fortune goes.

Her armor was commissioned by the finest craftsmen she could afford. Black, purple and light blue robes reminiscent of Cantha's culture as a reminder of where the Chosen came from. She pinned her hair up with a silver stick in place.

"I'm ready," she whispered. She wasn't sure if she should say goodbye to her only friend. Lord Faren would understand…Maybe.

She departed the gates of Divinity's Reach, the massive walls of the fortress no longer able to protect her. The stone path gave way to a dirt trail, leading down a slope into the village of Shaemoor. Rain poured from the skies. Shiori hoped in her gut this wasn't an omen.

Two Seraph soldiers rushed past her. Their armor was made of tarnished plates and lined with golden cloth. Recruits for the defenders of Divinity's Reach. The elementalist grabbed her staff, a simple metal rod with a light glowing at the top. Why were the Seraph rushing down to the river? She looked up. Houses were up in flames, the black roof tops falling to pieces.

"We're under attack!" a Seraph shouted. Corporeal Beirne of the Seraph ushered villagers down the hill, the Seraph recruits sprinting to the Inn by the bridge.

"What's happening?" Shiori asked the corporeal. "How can I help?"

"Centaur attack!" Beirne said. "Find Sergeant Walters! She's in charge. She's at the inn, just down the road, on the west side."

Her grip on her staff tightened. Centaurs of course. The nasty creatures would even dare attack so close outside of Divinity's Reach? Shiori sprinted down the hill to the inn after the Seraph recruits. Centaurs were charging in from across the bridge. The collective sound of hooves held no sway over Shiori. She trained for this, she was not afraid. Stopping at the bottom of the hill, she charged up a ball of flame in her hand and raised it to the sky. The magic in her grip lifted her up into the air, her staff the only connection to the ground. Meteors covered in flames rained down on the centaurs over the bridge, slamming into them and setting them aflame. The shower of meteors would hold them at bay, for now.

Her feet returned to the ground as she finished her spell. Meteors continued to rain. Shiori took rest inside the doorway of the inn, the floor and chairs all occupied by terrified villagers. The screams of the scorched centaurs mixed with the cries of the villagers.

A woman with ash hair pulled into a braid directed the soldiers to assist the wounded. She walked an elder villager over to an empty chair. "You'll be safe here." The woman, Sergeant Walters, brushed a stray strand of hair out of her face. She spotted Shiori standing in the doorway, eying her armor and staff.

"Sergeant!" a Seraph soldier brushed past Shiori and saluted to Walters. "There are more centaurs on the other side of town. Captain Thackeray's calling for reinforcements at the garrison!"

Walters sighed. "If he's calling for help it must be serious, but I can't spare anyone."

Shiori stepped forward, planting her staff firmly on the wooden floor with a thump. "I'll go. Captain Thackeray's never failed Divinity's Reach. If I can help him, I will."

Walters nodded. "Balthazar bless you. That's the spirit that'll win this war. Good luck."

"Thank you, Sergeant." Shiori waved her off and sprinted back out into the storm. "I refuse to let this town fall," she said to herself. "Not on my watch." Perhaps this was a part of her path, the path towards the Elder Dragons.

The meteor shower ended. The centaurs were regrouping and marching down the pathway towards the garrison. Shiori dived towards the ground, rolling forward way past the remaining pack, leaving a trail of flames in her wake.

She ran as fast as she could over a bridge to the gates in a pathetic attempt to outrun the experienced four legged centaurs. She dived into the garrison, the Seraph guard closing the gates behind her.

"You okay soldier?" one of the Seraph asked her as she was bent over, hands on her knees as she gasped for air.

"Ye-Yes," she replied.

"You're the help Walters sent?" a man asked.

"Yes," she said her breathing slowing. She looked up and saw the face of the man. Clad in winged silver armor, a golden decorative cloth covering his breastplate, and a long sword in his grip, was the legendary hero Logan Thackeray. His ashy brown hair stuck to his face in the rain. He looked at the woman in concern, hand extended.

She took it, startled that this was the Captain of the Seraph and the living legend caring about her own safety. "Y-Yes sir!" She saluted.

"Man the defenses then! What is your name and your strengths, citizen?" he asked, jogging over to the other side of the garrison where the gates remained open. Shiori nearly tripped over herself trying to keep up.

"My name is Shiori. I'm an elementalist sir!" she told him loudly over the thunder from the sky and the hooves of centaurs.

"Then stay back and range them. I cannot afford to lose any more in this siege," he ordered her, diving into the front lines as the centaurs from the bridge by the inn finally came around the garrison.

Shiori nodded. Eager to prove herself to the captain, she ran up the stairs to the overlook of the garrison to catch the charging centaurs by surprise with ranged spells. To her nasty surprise, a single centaur was off in the battlefield, his staff raised and glowing. The barren, scorched earth was crumbling and shaking around him.

"Oh no," she whispered. "Captain Thackeray! There's a centaur sage out there!" she exclaimed as she ran down the stairs. She summoned lightning to her palms, swirling the air around her to move faster.

"What?" the captain said as he cut down another centaur. The pack finished off, he turned to see the singular sage summoning in the battlefield. Shiori ran past him, electricity flickering off her heels.

"Rise!" the centaur sage chanted over and over. Giant rocks and roots were lifted from beneath the earth, forming hands that channeled a bright star of light that contrasted the thundering sky. The rain had slowed to a mist.

The centaur smirked at his work and ran off, his ritual complete. "Destroy them!" he ordered the elemental.

"By all Six Gods, what is that thing? It's huge!" a seraph soldier exclaimed, eyes wide. Shiori had to stop before the massive thing.

"An earth elemental, a big one," Shiori responded. She could have never conjured something this impressive.

"And a threat. Forward! For the queen!" Thackeray raised his sword and charged with the Seraph into the fray.

Shiori ran on ahead, her staff glowing in the storm. Rocks bombarded her from all angles, causing her to roll about on the ground to avoid a rock to the face. She gritted her teeth in frustration as she got up from the dirt. A meteor shower was out of the question. Hand on her staff, a fireball lit up in her palm. She threw the fireballs at the base of the hands. Cracks formed in the rocks with each blast of fire.

She leaned down to the ground and placed her hand on the dirt. A magical lava fissure appeared at the base of the rock hands, eating parts of the cracked pieces.

"Watch for debris! Keep your heads down!" Thackeray warned. "Rally to me if you need to recover!"

Seraph injured by flying rocks limped over to him as he formed a protective bubble. Shiori sprinted around the giant elemental. There had to be a weak point, everything had a weak point. The center where a beam of light had to be its heart.

The rain had faded away. Thunder shook the air overhead as the earth elemental tossed pieces of rock, roots, and siege.

Forming an arcane shield around herself, Shiori stabbed her staff into the ground and flickered sparks of lightning in her palms. Thunder roared from the sky, reacting to her power. Raising her hands up in the air, the sparks of energy setting fire to the air. Large volts of lightning rained down from the skies, blasting apart the hands of the elemental.

A seraph soldier got thrown back by a piece of debris, skidding across the ground. Thackeray ran over to her, healing her up. He stared with wide eyes as he helped the soldier back up, at the elementalist channeling a large electric storm, destroying the elemental. It crumbled; the light in its heart fading.

Shiori lowered her hands as the rain storm finished its job. A satisfied grin grew on her lips. She did it. "Yes," she whispered.

The elemental's energy had to go somewhere though.

Thackeray saw the gathering energy of the broken magic of the elemental. "It's not dead yet! Brace yourselves; I think it's going to explode!"

Shiori sprinted over to Thackeray's position, the energy building. "Look out!" she shouted over the crumbling elemental. A massive shockwave blew all the rock and debris everywhere. She jumped up in front of Thackeray as he tried to get a wounded seraph out of range. With her arcane shield, the elementalist took the full force of a giant wheel that shot out to the captain.

Her world went black.


	2. Dreams and Nightmares

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates will be every two weeks on Fridays usually.

_Chapter 2: Dreams and Nightmares_

* * *

Gwyneth laughed as a fern hound licked her cheek. The sunshine of the forest warmed her heart. Her armor was made of green wood oak branches and layered vines, but it would have to do for the time being. Another hound rolled around in the dirt, lovingly inviting Gwyneth to play.

The teal sylvari grinned at the hound. "Aren't you a sweet soul?" she rubbed the fern hound's leafy green belly.

The kennel master chuckled. "They love you, Valiant."

The plant hounds snuggled up to the newborn warrior. "They're very healthy too," she laughed.

Under the shade of a large tree root, Melaine sat on the grass, her eyes underneath her hood watching Gwyneth play with the hounds in the bright sunlight. Melaine fiddled with a letter in her hands, a voice whispering in her ear.

"You absolutely sure? That's the new Valiant they speak about in the Grove?" the whispers asked. Melaine continued staring straight forward, the letter in her lap. Her sword, a twisted purple thorn, lay on the ground beside her, always at the ready.

"Yes. That's her. Her account of the shadow of the dragon is accurate and credible," Melaine responded, locking her thorned pistol with ammo. "I trust my report on her account matches the one Caithe wrote?"

"Yes. What Caithe spoke of to the Pale Tree matches exactly. All the other saplings have no words worth giving weight," the voice from the shadows said. "Caithe told me to give you that letter post haste."

"What does she want?" Melaine knew that Caithe was mysterious, but she would never know what secrets the firstborn had, since she was not a part of their order.

"She merely wants to inspect the other visions the Valiant has."

"Of course she does. How many other Valiants have a dragon at the end of their quest?" Melaine said, absolutely no emotion in her words. The pain of such a Wyld Hunt being bestowed upon a newborn sylvari like Gwyneth was not evident to anyone of her kind, but Melaine knew. It was an honor to them; to her, it was a burden. Caithe came close to completing this Wyld Hunt once…Once.

"Fair enough," the whispering voice responded, handing another sealed letter to Melaine. "This is from Preceptor Valenze. You'll want to read later."

Melaine tucked the report into her cloak of leaves. A letter from the Preceptor herself. Of course something was amiss. "Alright."

"You have your missive, Lightbringer. Go in peace."

Melaine felt the presence of the voice leave, a lone breeze of wind in their place. The report from the Preceptor burned in her pocket, and the letter from Caithe burned in her fingertips. She took a deep breath. This was going to be difficult to bear, but it was her mission after all. She was Lightbringer Melaine. There was no room for error.

Not even with a new Valiant. "Gwyneth," Melaine called out to her, picking up her sword and pistol and putting it on the vine belt on her hips.

The warrior stood up, the fern hounds whined in protest. "Yes Melaine?" Gwyneth brushed herself off, shaking out her layered blue hair.

Melaine handed her the letter. "From Caithe."

Gwyneth opened it up.

_Valiant Gwyneth,_

_You may not remember me immediately. We met in the Dream. The vision of the dragon intrigues me, but I would like for you to tell me other visions you may have had whilst in the Dream. Come speak to me in the Grove, and we can decipher these messages together._

_-Caithe._

"She wants to see me," Gwyneth said. "Huh."

Melaine nodded. "A Firstborn wants to see you. That's pretty important."

"A Firstborn?" Gwyneth asked. "I've heard of that term before. It's the first sylvari that awakened into the world right?" The young sapling had no idea why a firstborn sylvari would be interested in her, or her Dream.

"Yes. Let's go then. She's probably waiting for us," Melaine said.

Gwyneth nodded. "Yeah, you're right."

The two walked over to the Grove. The vast network of vines, roots, and grass surrounded the boughs of the Pale Mother. A sense of calm crept upon Gwyneth. The Dream was strongest here, and the warmth of Mother was safe and secure.

She wondered if it bothered Mother that she was walking on her own roots and branches. "I've dreamt of this place," she said, in awe of the Grove's beauty. At the heart of the tree in the distance were large pale petals surrounding her upper boughs.

"How does it compare?" Melaine asked. Even being near the Pale Mother affected her, bringing her security through the Dream.

Gwyneth put a finger on her lip in thought. "Hmm, much different."

Melaine raised an eyebrow at the statement. "How different?"

The warrior's brows furrowed "Like…she's stronger in the world. In my dream I saw this place was deserted, desolated."

That threw the thief for a loop. "What?"

"It was brief, but I saw it. I don't know why the Dream showed me that," Gwyneth confessed. "At any rate, I believe Caithe wants to see me."

Descending the floors of the Grove to the springs formed at the roots of the Pale Tree's trunk, Caithe awaited them within a house made of large leaves, various rooms and a garden in the back with a vine bridge stretched across it. All sylvari knew its name from the Dream: the House of Riannoc.

The entrance to the House of Riannoc expanded out, opening a hole in the bushel of leaves. Stepping inside, Gwyneth could feel the very heartbeat of the roots of the Pale Tree beneath her feet. In the center of the room was a swirling spiral leading to the roof. To her left near a training area was a rack of warden-made weapons.

Caithe waved to them from across the antechamber. "Valiant Gwyneth. Good. We can discuss your visions."

Gwyneth smiled at the familiar firstborn. Finally, a chance to speak with the mysterious firstborn without the pressing urge of battle. Standing beside Caithe was a maple tree looking sylvari with limbs of bark for her armor, even covering her head of hair.

"Hello sapling," the sylvari resembling a maple tree's trunk said with much vigor. "I'm Niamh, Luminary of the Cycle of Noon. Caithe told me you saw a dragon in your Dream. Tell me all the details, was it a great battle? Caithe is so secretive."

Caithe chuckled. "You know us Night Blooms, Niamh."

Melaine leaned against the walls of the room. "I prefer a more quiet approach."

Gwyneth nodded. "It was a fierce battle. The Dream called upon me to defeat the monster."

Niamh brightened up like the sun after a storm had passed. Her enthusiasm was nearly overwhelming for the youth. "Ahh yes, you're a Valiant of the Wyld Hunt. Only one other had seen the dragon in the Dream, bear this burden with pride and be strong."

Caithe agreed. "Tell me Gwyneth, what else did you see?"

The teal sylvari pondered what she saw. "Well, I saw a shield of a crescent moon, a knight in green armor, and a white stag."

Melaine perked up at the last part. "Wait, did you say white stag?"

Gwyneth nodded. "Yes I…"

"Help!" a deep shaking voice cried out from the training area of the house. Gwyneth was shaken by the sudden call for help. A sylvari painted in oranges and reds sprinted over to the four females. "Somebody help me! The brute is killing my beloved. Stop him!" He pointed to the training area.

A bubble of anger rose in Gwyneth's gut. Who would be cruel enough to kill people in the Grove of all places? She grabbed a great sword off the rack of weapons, a sturdy branch with its blade made of a mysterious blue glass-like material. "Show me this brute!"

The orange sylvari ran to the training area, running to his beloved who laid on the floor. Gwyneth charged in faster than Caithe or Melaine could react. A tall knight in twisted green armor adorned with thorns stood over the beaten sapling with a purple sword that resembled the one Melaine carried on her person. The orange sylvari ran in front of his lover on the ground.

"Bercilak! Please! Enough. Victory is yours. Just let him live!" he pleaded.

The sylvari on the ground shook his head. "Please, Dagdar. Go, and leave me. He'll kill you too, if you stay."

"Let him live? Ha! This sapling accepted my challenge and failed. His life is forfeit," the knight mocked, lifting up his blade to strike them both down.

Gwyneth's hands strangled the handle of the greatsword. "Hey Bercilak, how about instead of picking fights with defenseless saplings like a coward, you fight me instead?" She glared down the knight, her blade at the ready.

The sound of a shrill krait erupted from Bercilak's throat. "Ah, the newborn Valiant of the Wyld Hunt, challenging me to a fight? Quite an honor. Maybe you'll be the one who can best me in combat. I highly doubt you're it, but we'll fight anyway."

"With pleasure, bully," she growled.

Melaine shook her head as she watched with Caithe. "Oh Pale Mother give her strength…" she messaged her temples. This Valiant was hot blooded.

Caithe watched in silence.

Gwyneth rushed at Bercilak, their blades clashing with a loud clang. The blade of the warden greatsword scraped against the sword in the knight's grip. Gwyneth's blood rushed with adrenaline, her weight pressing on the twisted blade. Bercilak was caught off guard by the show of raw strength, taking a step back to maintain balance, but still, Gwyneth pressed on. His grip weakened from the pressure and she knocked the blade out of the knight's hand. She kicked him down.

The knight was defeated in only a mere minute. Dagdar clapped for Gwyneth. "You bested him! Thank the Pale Mother."

Gwyneth smiled at Dagdar and his lover. "Always happy to defend the innocent."

The knight jumped right back up and grabbed his sword, pointing it at Gwyneth's neck. "You honestly think you can best me, Valiant?" He spat like her title was venom.

"Yes, yes I do," she answered as she raised her great sword again. This time the knight charged at her, laughing with bloodlust.

She dodged downwards, his sword hitting thin air. She slashed her blade at his legs, but he leaped backwards in time. She lifted the greatsword straight up into the air and threw it right at Bercilak. The knight had no time to react. The blunt end of the blade collided with his gut, sending him flying into the bushes. The sharp edge clattered against the armor.

Gwyneth walked over to retrieve her blade.

Caithe moved closer to inspect the knight's body. "I have a twisted feeling about this…"

Melaine had a grip on her own sword.

Gwyneth picked up the warden greatsword by its handle, but a hand grabbed onto the blade, tugging at it. Bercilak's head popped out of the bushes.

"Your determination is astounding, Valiant," he laughed at her. She pulled roughly at the weapon.

"What is this trickery?!" She grunted as she tried to pry her weapon from her grip. Bercilak released his grip, sending her backwards to the ground, the greatsword flying out of her hands.

The knight stood up, his twisted weapon in hand. "Would be such a shame for the new hope of the Pale Tree to die so soon after awakening." Bercilak raised his blade to strike down the newborn warrior.

Melaine ran in front of Gwyneth, the tip of her sword pointed at the green knight's neck. "Don't even dare, Bercilak," she said in a voice so twisted and deadly it sent a chill down Gwyneth's spine.

He lowered his sword, looking at Melaine then to her weapon. "Ahh, Melaine. The Court would love to have you. But you're so self-sacrificing it hurts. You will live, if only because having the Valiant of the Wyld Hunt be a part of us would destroy the morale of you pathetic Dreamers."

He stepped back from the sword at his throat and fled the scene.

Melaine sheathed her sword and offered a hand to Gwyneth. "That coward. He only knows killing me would have his head on a spike."

Caithe and Niamh ran over. "Is everyone okay?" Niamh looked over Eladus, Dagdar, and Gwyneth for injuries.

Caithe looked in the direction Bercilak ran off to. "Twice beaten, twice he got up."

Melaine agreed. "That armor has to do something with it. No one can get up after being beaten so easily. Not to mention he is a Nightmare Court."

Gwyneth tilted her head. "Nightmare Court? Who are they?"

Both Caithe and Melaine's expressions turned dark. "The Nightmare Court are sylvari who turned away from the Dream and Ventari's teachings," Caithe explained.

"They use twisted methods to convert sylvari to the Nightmare," Melaine added, brushing her fingers over the handle of the twisted purple sword resting on her belt.

Gwyneth noted the similarities of her sword to Bercilak's, but held her tongue. A night bloom Melaine was; no way would she answer the question in broad daylight.

"I must thank you," Dagdar said to Gwyneth. He bowed to her. "Eladus is everything to me. Your courage saved us both. If there's anything I can do to return the favor, I will let you know. He challenges young sylvari to duels and then fights them to the death. When Bercilak insulted my honor, Eladus had no other option. He loves me, after all."

Love. That was a foreign concept to her. This wasn't like the same love Gwyneth had for the Pale Mother, or the love she has for her fellow brothers and sisters like Melaine and Caithe. This was entirely different. The way Dagdar referred to Eladus and looked upon him with adoration…What was this type of love?

"Love?" The warrior asked.

Caithe nodded. "Love is a gift. One that should be cherished for it is fleeting. We sylvari love freely, as our hearts command. In any case, it seems that Bercilak took advantage of the affection these two had for one another."

Gwyneth crossed her arms. "Using love for evil? The monster needs to be stopped."

Melaine placed a hand on her arm. "Hold on sapling. We need to figure out why he was able to stand once more. It has to be his armor."

Gwyneth tilted her head. "His armor?"

"There was something about it, something magical," Melaine said. "Whoever made that armor must know how to remove the enchantment."

Dagdar placed a finger on his chin. "I may be able to help you after all. Bercilak has been trying to woo a Valiant named Gairwen near Morgan's Spiral, unsuccessfully might I add."

Gwyneth smiled. Good news. "That is helpful, thank you."

Caithe remained indifferent the entire time. "If the Nightmare Court are involved in this, then Gwyneth, Melaine, you go speak to this Gairwen and I will investigate where these twisted sylvari are hiding out in Caledon."

Melaine gave a nod. "Agreed. We'll see what this Gairwen has to say."

Gwyneth turned to Niamh, presenting the warden greatsword. "Here, this is yours."

Niamh lifted her hand up to stop the warrior. "Keep it. A Valiant such as you will need it."

Gwyneth placed the great blade on her back, bowing. "Thank you Firstborn."

Caithe disappeared under a cloak of shadows. "Be careful," she whispered. "Morgan's Spiral is on the very coast. The Risen will be there."

Not with a single sound, Caithe left.

"Come, Gwyneth, to Morgan's Spiral," Melaine gestured to the warrior.

* * *

"The Risen are the minions of the undead dragon, right?" Gwyneth asked as the two walked outside the Grove. The villages were quieting as the sky above darkened. Night fell as soft as a gentle sleep.

Melaine, dressed in the green oaken armor of the wardens, paused in her steps in the shallow waters of a pond by the Grove. "Yes, they belong to Zhaitan."

"And my Wyld Hunt is to face Zhaitan," Gwyneth speaking the task out loud gave it a much heavier weight. The reality of such a task, given immediately to a newborn sylvari, was haunting.

Melaine took a deep breath. Her mission was always about this. She at times wished her Wyld Hunt was about Zhaitan, instead of this wide-eyed youth who stepped out of her pod a mere day ago. "Yes."

"Zhaitan plagues Tyria, causing it to slowly wither and die," Gwyneth stated. "I am willing to play my part."

She didn't understand the costs. Melaine continued walking, stepping out of the pond and onto the dirt path. "It will not be a glorious victory nor an easy one. In any case, we need to move on."

Gwyneth wished she could ask about her sword, but it would have to wait. She walked behind Melaine towards the beach of Morgan's Spiral.

She realized why it was called Morgan's Spiral. A beach with a sylvari grown tower sat in the middle of a spiral pattern. Up above the tower were rocks floating in the air.

"Prepare yourself!" Melaine warned. "The Risen are here."

On a hill near the beach a purple sylvari glowing a pale green, stood by a grave, shooting her bow at the rotting undead running at her. Leafy turrets surrounded her, barraging the pack of undead with spiked projectiles.

Melaine pulled out her sword and shadow-stepped to the center of the pack. Gwyneth had never seen a shadow-step before. It was like Melaine was one with the darkness for a second, then she appeared again, able to attack her enemies in an instant.

Gwyneth pulled out her greatsword and flew in a whirlwind towards the pack, sending the Risen flying.

Melaine with her dagger stabbed the remaining standing undead in the skulls.

The attack held off, the purple sylvari sighed in relief as she put away her bow. "Thank you for guarding my dear Evart's grave from the foul undead," she said to her two rescuers.

Gwyneth bowed. "Glad that we arrived when we did. I am Gwyneth, are you Gairwen?"

"Indeed I am. You're the new Wyld Hunt Valiant, aren't you?" Gairwen asked. She held grief and pain on her face. Her leafy hair sagged, her posture showing worn muscles.

Melaine nodded. "She is. We came to ask you a few questions about Bercilak."

Gairwen's eyes narrowed at the name. "That monster slayed my dear Evart. Any friends of his are an enemy to me."

"Then it's a good thing we're not his friends then," Gwyneth said.

"Can you tell us about his armor?" Melaine asked. "Anything at all?"

Gairwen nodded. "All I know is it seems to make him invincible. After he challenged my love to the death I fought him myself. But I lost. That armor is impenetrable. He wanted me to forget my love and swear allegiance to him, but I refused. I could never leave Evart. The armor was forged by a smith named Occam near Bay Haven."

"Then I should go speak to Occam then," Gwyneth said. "Thank you Gairwen."

"You're welcome. Hopefully you can get rid of that monster before more die and suffer at his hands." Gairwen turned back to the grave. It was made of a simple rock with a large vibrant leaf marker on it, painted in white "Evart."

The sight of the simple grave left a sense of dread and anger in the warrior. She had to stop this green knight before anymore suffered.


	3. Freeloader

"You would think the Hero of Shaemoor, my best friend, would have a much better selection of food and wine," a haughty voice spoke to a woman in blue winged priestess robes.

Shiori opened her eyes. Her head was heavy, her legs like gelatin. What has happened to her? She couldn't remember. The floor was hard, only a thin mat acting as the barrier between her body and the wood. "Lord Faren?"

The source of the voice, a man in a white puffy shirt and velvet vest, his curly hair groomed and gelled to perfection, turned to face the elementalist. "Ah Shiori! You're awake!"

She sat up. The priestess walked over and inspected her. "Faren, why are you here? Where even am I?"

"You were injured when the elemental exploded. Captain Thackeray brought you here personally. You've been unconscious for three days."

She felt dizzy. Three days? This priestess was very good at her healing. "Oh." She held her head. "Thank you..."

"Priestess Amelia," she said.

The winged garb she wore meant she was a priestess of Dwayna, the goddess of healing. Dwayna truly blessed Shiori in the heat of battle. "A fellow follower of Dwayna, thank you." Shiori blinked her eyes, the dizziness fading.

"You're welcome. Lord Faren here was talking about you."

Faren bowed. "Indeed milady. I have been preparing your welcome home party while you were unconscious."

Amelia shook her head, placing a hand on Shiori's shoulder. "You will need some fresh air and exercise before you attend any parties."

Shiori agreed. Amelia handed her a piece of bread from the baker to nibble on.

Faren turned to depart the small house being used as a temporary hospital. "I must go attend to matters at my manor. Once you feel better Shiori, you must attend your celebration. And you must tell me about your adventure." He left with a wink over the shoulder.

Shiori sighed as she chewed a piece of bread in her mouth. So much for going out to conquer Elder Dragons.

Once she finished the bread, she moved to get up and walk. The village of Shaemoor was damaged in the massive centaur assault, but it was no longer in flames. Workers on the houses hammered away, boarding up the holes in the walls and patching the roofs. It was a sunny day. The rain that came with the centaurs vanished.

Shiori looked to the pathway leading up the hill into Divinity's Reach. She had little choice but to attend Faren's gathering. She reached into her bag, unscathed by the assault. The book was intact. Relief relaxed her shoulders.

Walking up the hill, she passed back into Divinity's Reach.

The city was split into six different sections connected by large arching bridges all leading to the center gardens, where the palace resides. Each section, like a clock, was dedicated to the Six Gods.

Upon entry, Shiori was standing on the bridge dedicated to Dwayna to the south. She descended the bridge to the lower sections of the city, where most citizens lived. Children played in the grass of the wide space of the carnival in a corner of the Eastern Commons.

"I'm Gwen Thackeray!" one girl said, clutching a book that read "Gwen's Story" in golden letters. "She was so strong and brave."

"I wanna become a tall strong norn like Jora when I get older," another girl declared, flexing her arms while standing tall.

"But humans aren't tall like norn. Norn are much taller," said 'Gwen,' still clutching her book. "Melonni what do you think?"

"Melonni" thought to herself. "I don't know. You can still be very tough, like Melonni and Jora."

"Jora beat up her brother," said the girl aspiring to be a norn. "Can Melonni beat up her brother?"

Shiori chuckled at the girls playing pretend, continuing past the Eastern Commons to the Rurikton district. A large circular gate with a purple mist emanating inside of the structure sat near the center of the district. A whirling sound constantly echoed off the stone walls. Two short people with three-toed feet and large ears stood by the gate. Everyone knew these two in the city. They were asura, and they were there to keep the gate up and running every minute of every day.

"No no, we need to calibrate the static magical output instead of input," one asura said as they opened up a board inside the gate's structure.

"You skritt for brains, it's input," the other asura said, crossing their arms and eating an apple.

"You're the skritt for brains because I was right." The asura messing with the circuit inside the gate heard a beep. "Ha!"

The purple magic flickered inside the gate with some static. The asura eating an apple swallowed a large bite roughly. "If that gate goes down I'm not answering to the Queen on that."

Shiori moved past the gate and walked north towards her home in the Salma district. It was perhaps the most varied district with the rich and poor and in-between living in the district. Her house was upon Manor Hill, where all the wealthy of the district lived.

She spotted balloons behind the high grating fences of the Salma District. It was also a semi gated off community to protect the Seraph Hospital and the Queen's Heart orphanage.

The Seraph guarding the gate let her in, to recognizing her. "Hail, Hero of Shaemoor," the two saluted.

Oh right. Shiori waved to them with a smile, before being greeted immediately by Lord Faren.

"Oh, Lord Faren," she said in surprise as he swung an arm over her shoulder.

"Come my friend, we must celebrate this amazing occasion of your victory against those nasty centaurs," he boasted, walking the two up Manor Hill. "And you must tell me why you left with naught a single word!"

"Faren I…" she paused as she took notice of the gathering before her. Nobles she all knew were there, dancing, looking over the gardens, eating, and laughing. A servant walked up to her with a tray in their hands.

"Hors d'oeuvres milady?" The servant offered.

Shiori plucked a piece of bread with dried seasoned tomatoes spread on it and took a bite. "Thank you Cassidia," she said in-between bites.

"Your servants were most helpful in helping me out with putting this together," Faren mentioned as he took a wine glass off another servant's tray and took a sip. "Your wine selection is superb."

She gave him a playful shove. "I'm glad my wine has your approval."

Faren bowed. "I'm sure the guests want to hear your magnificent exploits."

Shiori looked at the crowd. So many nobles to converse with. At least many were on friendly terms. She stood up straight, painting an upbeat expression on her face.

"Now if you will excuse me, hero, I must go speak with the beautiful Baroness Jasmina," Faren grabbed another glass of wine and sauntered over to a lady in a deep red dress.

Shiori was able to breathe in relief. A woman in glasses with her dress stained with ink waved to her.

"Hello! Oh hello there Lady Shiori," the woman bowed in greeting. "Lady Camilla. I was invited last minute so pardon me; I had to write everything down that I heard about your exploits in Shaemoor."

Shiori had to chuckle. That explained the ink stains. "I'm sure the details are exaggerated greatly."

Camilla shook her head. "I am no fool to rumors. You spotted the centaur sage's spell faster than Logan Thackeray himself."

"Impressive. What are the supposed fudged details?" Shiori asked, hoping that they weren't more than simple rubbish.

"Oh that you imploded the entire keep to keep the centaurs at bay, the exaggerated things," Camilla explained. "Regardless I love a good story."

"Hope you took great pleasure in hearing the story then Lady Camilla. Enjoy the party." Shiori bowed and turned to two noblemen looking over the gardens.

"It's the Hero of Shaemoor! Come have a drink with us!" Lord Benjamin raised a glass of wine.

"Tell us a tale of your exploits," Baron Corone leaned in closer to hear the elementalist speak.

"Well," Shiori cleared her throat as she grabbed a glass of white wine off a tray passing by her. "The centaurs attacked Shaemoor Garrison and Captain Thackeray was there."

"How exciting!" Baron Edmonds set down his glass on a servant's tray. "You fought alongside the captain?"

Shiori nodded. "Yes. It was…thrilling."

Baron Corone nodded. "Indeed it must be. Glad to see you hale and hearty. A toast," he raised his glass. "To the Hero of Shaemoor!"

Shiori took one meticulous sip of her wine before mingling some more with the other guests. Her stomach bubbled in hunger. A table with an array of cheeses, fruits, and sweets was by her manor's front door. She picked up some grapes, refined dolyak cheese, and a sweet chocolate cream with a raspberry plopped on it. She downed the grapes and cheese, but only ate the raspberry. The chocolate was far too sweet.

Beside her, Lady Madeline was looking over the spread of food. "Hello," Shiori greeted the noble.

The lady in a sky blue dress, her hair pinned up in a bun, looked up in surprise. "Oh, hello Lady Shiori. I must thank you for the party, or should I be thanking Lord Faren?" she teased. Bags were underneath her eyes, hidden by makeup.

"Lord Faren would certainly love the appreciation," Shiori responded, taking another bite of a cheese.

"So refreshing to be out and festive. Between the centaur trouble, mother's failing health, and...Other matters, I do nothing but worry," Madeline sighed. "You were so brave to go out there during the attack."

The elementalist shrugged. "It's what I had to do. It was the only thing I felt I could do."

Madeline smiled. "Well in any case, I should enjoy more of the festivities. Excuse me, Hero of Shaemoor." She walked over to Baron Corone and Edmonds.

"Greetings, Lady Shiori," a woman greeted her from behind.

Shiori turned around to face a very pretty baroness. Her hair was a neatly trimmed bob cut and golden brown. "Hello, Baroness Jasmina."

"What a lovely party you have," the baroness complimented. "Regretfully, I can't stay long. Lord Faren's constant demands for my attention have worn me out."

Shiori snickered. The lord's obvious feelings for the very pretty baroness were hopeless. "I appreciate you coming all the same. Don't worry; I'll break the news of your departure to Faren."

Jasmina gave a sigh of relief. "Thank you, milady. I must retire. Enjoy the evening. I hear Wozmack the Wonderful is about to put on a show."

The baroness left. Shiori grabbed a glass of water and strode over to the supposed Wozmack the Wonderful. He looked ridiculous in his small mustache and his tight pants. He noticed the hero approaching the crowd standing before him. "Ah! The guest of honor! Ladies and gentlemen I give to you the hero of Shaemoor! So, hero, are you ready to be amazed?" he asked Shiori.

The hero nodded. "Of course, Wozmack. Show me what you got." She never truly was into magic acts, she preferred a symphony or a bard, but who was she to deny the Wonderful from performing?

"Perfect! Gather around, gather around. But not too close— my tricks are daring and dangerous!"

The crowd of nobles leaned in, curious as to what this magical magician had up his sleeve. "And now, prepare to be stunned—right out of your shoes!" He put his palms together, conjuring up fire in the process. "Behold! Fire! From my hands!"

Shiori raised her eyebrows. Fire was second nature to her.

The fire however was fake. Wozmack lost control and the flames went into the crowd, frightening the daylights out of the crowd save for the hero. "Whoa! Sorry, ladies and gentlemen. That one got away from me. Still, as far as tricks go, that one was "well done." Thank you!"

Shiori raised her palm to her face at the terrible joke.

"Hello, Heroine of Shaemoor," A woman with voluminous hair and a tight deep red dress on her person stood next to her as Wozmack continued with his show.

"Greetings, Baroness Yolanda," Shiori said with a glance at the noblewoman. "How have you been?"

"I've been marvelous, though you know better than to follow that rascal Faren around. He's trouble. Now, tell me all about meeting Logan Thackeray," she sighed at thinking about the Seraph Captain with a doe-eyed look.

Ah, Yolanda's crush on the captain was infamous in noble circles. Shiori leaned in to the baroness' ear as Wozmack pulled doves out of his sleeves. "The rampaging centaurs attacking the garrison kept our conversations short."

Yolanda chuckled. "Did he smile at you? Was he charming? Oooh, did he say anything about Queen Jennah?"

Shiori shook her head. "You're such a hopeless gossip."

"Well of course! Gossip keeps these gatherings interesting even after the party is over," Yolanda took a sip of red wine from her cup.

At this point, Wozmack disappeared in thin air. That startled all the nobles, including Yolanda and Shiori.

"Did he just vanish without a trace?" Shiori frowned. Odd but interesting trick.

"The entertainment disappeared," Yolanda said. "I wonder where he went."

"Same here," Shiori said. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Lady Madeline's brother, Minister Zamon, speaking to Lord Faren.

The elementalist grew weary and tired of the party. She had to rest in preparation for her actual journey in the morning, after she rescued her friend from the minister. "Excuse me, Baroness. Hope to speak with you again," Shiori said, walking over to Faren and Zamon.

Faren's expressions were tight. He was trying so hard to tolerate the minister, only nodding along with his words.

"Minister Zamon," Shiori caught his attention before Faren could open his mouth and bad-mouth the man. "Hope you're enjoying the festivities."

Zamon's wear was that of a rugged coat with distressed leather. A yellow tie tied too tight around his neck gave off an air of self-importance. "Oh, the hero herself," he looked over her, sizing her up with a grin that made her uneasy. "You've done well for yourself. All it takes for a noble to be a hero is a bit of swordplay, a few bottles of cheap brandy, and an inflated sense of self-importance."

Shiori cleared her throat. "Then you're almost a hero already, my lord. All you lack is the brandy and swordplay. In any case, Lord Faren," she turned to her friend who just heard her words towards the stuffy minister. "I think I am done and must retire for the night."

Zamon had no time to retort Shiori's slight of words, for he heard his sister yell for help.

"Run! Bandits!" Lady Madeline screamed. The nobles, including Zamon, fled, the servants running into Shiori's manor in fear. Some weren't able to make it very far, a couple nobles hiding behind the gating and diving underneath tables.

"Ah! Shiori!" Faren yelled, seized by two large muscle men, pulling him away from Shiori. "Let me go you oversized meatheads! Take your hands off me, you scum! Help! Murder! Mayhem!"

More bandits flooded in, Shiori formed an arcane shield around herself. Setting fire to a bandit, the elementalist brought forth the powers of water and took a deep breath, freezing a group of them in front of her in a large block of ice. She ran over and pulled up Baron Corone up from being knocked into the bushes. "Are you alright?"

Corone nodded. "I'm fine, milady. What happened to Faren?"

She looked back to the stairs the bandits dragged him down to. "They kidnapped him. I'm going after them."

Baron Edmonds came out from underneath the food table. "We'll make sure everyone here is safe, go hero! We have this." He searched out the quivering servant hiding behind a set of stairs.

Shiori nodded. "Thank you." With her staff in hand, she ran off down the street into the heart of the Salma District.

The Seraph and Ministry Guard were prowling the area, searching for the bandits and attending to others who were unfortunate to get in the way of the criminals. "Excuse me," she stopped a Seraph. "Have you seen the bandits drag a man through here?"

The Seraph shook her head. "Sorry ma'am, I have not. We just got here to clean up the mess."

Shiori looked around the open market area. Faren literally could be anywhere. "Thank you. There's a group of frozen bandits up by Manor Hill."

"Appreciate you informing us, ma'am," the Seraph saluted and ran off with a few of her comrades up the hill.

"Where are you, Lord Faren?" Shiori looked at the houses lined up neatly. She couldn't just go barging into any of these.

A loud shuffle. Shiori turned to her left towards the beginning of a back alley near the tavern. A head poking out from behind a wall hid as soon as the elementalist looked to see the source of the sound. With caution, Shiori took steps over to the corner of the alley, her staff raised. The smell of poor hygiene bombarded her nose. She turned the corner and expected an ambush.

Except all that was there was a small mouse of a girl sitting on a thin pallet. Her hair was a nest, a dull brown. Her fingers were gloveless and dirty with her face. Her boots were at least two sizes too big for her feet. The lack of light except from the moon casted a ghastly shadow upon her face.

Aquamarine eyes surrounded by dirt looked up at the elementalist with apprehension. Shiori had no idea what to say to this street girl. She was young, very young. Barely a woman yet. Her body was thin and frail, barely having enough to eat no doubt. The noble had seen poor people before and interacted with them, but this was different. She was desperate to help her friend, yet a part of her couldn't help but want to take this girl into her house and clean her up and feed her.

"I uh," the girl lifted her finger. "I saw them take a man into that house in the center row," she stood up from her pallet. "Follow me."

Shiori kept herself apprehensive. This could be a trap and the girl was there to gain sympathy. The mousey girl walked over to the house, not very afraid of the bandits at all. No trembles. She probably had to deal with their lout on a daily basis. Or it was still a trap.

"Do you have a weapon?" Shiori asked the girl. She turned around, startled by the question.

"No, I don't," she said sadly. "Not that I know how to fight anyways."

"Oh," Shiori felt dumb. She was poor. The only self-defense she would know is how to use a dagger or something of the sort.

The mouse girl walked over to a perfectly unsuspicious house. She knocked on the door, Shiori standing just out of sight of the peep hole.

"What's the password?" a man grumbled from behind the door.

Shiori jumped out from her hiding spot. "The password is let me in." She with a blast of fire scorched the wooden door and kicked it in, smashing the brute in the face and singing the ends of his clothes. The mouse girl ducked down as Shiori charged into the house, rooting out the bandits within.

"Mmmph!" Lord Faren cried out from the top floor. Shiori bashed her staff into a bandit's gut, she looked up and shouted to the distressed noble.

"We're coming up for you Faren, hold on!" Shiori electrified another bandit in place. The house was now empty of the criminals. The mouse girl stood in the doorway, dumb founded by all the passed out bandits littering the floor.

Shiori ran up the stairs to the top floor. Lord Faren was gagged and bound on the floor. "Faren you alright?" She removed his gag and cut the rope ties around his wrists.

"Milady has saved me! Though if you wanted me to leave the party, a simple 'Begone, freeloader!' would have sufficed." Faren got up, rubbing his wrists.

Shiori shook her head. Oh Faren. "I'm just relieved you're okay," she said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Any idea who these hooligans were or what they wanted?"

He placed a finger on his chin. "Hmm, they were talking about the basement of this house. Said they were going to put me in there with the rest of the hostages."

Shiori's brows furrowed. "Wait, what? There was no basement entrance on my way into this house."

Faren shrugged. "Perhaps we should poke around and see where these ruffians hid the entrance."

Going down stairs, Shiori forgot she left the mouse girl in the door way. "And who is this lovely lady?" Faren asked.

He was a flirt even though the girl looked like she hadn't had a proper bath in weeks.

The mouse girl crossed her arms at him, not exactly taken kindly to his comment about her. "Alixia. My name is Alixia."

"She aided in me finding you," Shiori added. "Come, we must find the basement." She opened the wardrobe to find just simple clothes. Brushing them aside she leaned on the backside, expecting a false backing.

Faren kicked at the floorboards but none were loose. The two looked underneath the stairs, the beds, the mirrors, even pushed aside side tables. No way into a basement.

Alixia stared at an already moved side table in front of a plain stone wall. The wall had a slightly darker tone than the rest of the house, barely noticeable. It wasn't even reflecting the light of the lamps in the room. She shoved the dresser aside and placed her hand on the wall. It felt like pure glass on her hand.

"I think I found something," she told the two nobles. She pressed harder on the glass stone, before the wall shattered in purple and pink shards. A stair case leading into a dark basement was behind the veiled curtain.

Shiori's jaw dropped. Did this street girl just see through a mesmer illusion? And actively shattered it?

"Are you a mesmer?" Lord Faren asked.

Alixia shook her head. "No, I am not."

Shiori pushed the thought aside for the moment. "Come on, we got to find the hostages."

Faren grabbed a sword off of one of the passed out bandits and followed Shiori down the passage.

"Stay close Faren, so we can protect each other," Shiori said, lighting a flame in her hand. The passage led to the underground tunnel system built underneath Divinity's Reach. It was one of the ways bandits snuck into the city, somehow. The dank smell flooded their noses. Pitter, patter. The tassels on their golden lined boots were stained by the sickly colored puddles littering the cave.

"Eugh, the stench will not leave my boots for weeks!" Faren cringed as he stepped in another puddle.

A high-pitched whine echoed off the walls. The duo stopped.

"Hear that?" Shiori lifted her hand up higher.

"Sounds like a fair maiden in trouble," Faren noted, preparing his sword. "Those dastardly ruffians kidnapped a poor lady!"

Shiori took off running down the caves. In a dead end corridor, a woman, a child, and an elder man were locked in cages, with a single bandit watching them with a rifle. With not a single blink of the eye, the elementalist blasted the bandit with a ball of fire. The man collapsed over, the magical flames disappearing, along with his screams of anguish.

Faren snatched the keys off his belt. "Ha! Taught them a lesson you did." He unlocked the cages, the three prisoners freed.

"Thank you," the elder man bowed to the two nobles, wincing at his wounded shoulder.

Shiori nodded. "There's Seraph down the tunnel and up through a house that can mend your wound properly. She raised her hand to his shoulder, water splashing off her finger tips and soothing over the open gnash in the fabric.

The old man sighed. "Thank you so much."

Faren saluted to him. "If you know any fair maidens, be sure to tell them who rescued you: the dashing Lord Faren... and his friend!"

Shiori rolled her eyes. How very Faren of him. "Just get yourself and the others to a safe place. That's all the thanks we need."

In the man's grip was a piece of worn folded paper. "I snuck this from the bandits. All it has is their orders for what to do with us.

Shiori furrowed her eyebrows. "Yeah…it is."

Escorting the captives out of the tunnel and back into the house, Shiori spotted Alixia standing with Captain Logan Thackeray in the doorway. The woman, elder man, and the child ran to the troops.

"Captain Thackeray!" Shiori saluted to the hero.

Faren lifted his hands in surprise at the presence of the captain. "We've had the most marvelous adventure! My friend and I defeated these delinquents with panache and aplomb. You're just in time to celebrate our victory."

Thackeray had a slight tilt of his head at Lord Faren's antics. "I'm... amazed. Then again, I should have known the hero of Shaemoor wouldn't let your kidnapping go unanswered. Alixia here was explaining to me what happened." He turned to her. "You've done us a great service."

The street girl brightened up at his compliment. "Th-thank you, Captain Thackeray."

Shiori held the document in her hand with an iron grip still. "This was found down there. It's quite unnerving to be honest." The paper was delicate and embroidered with a swirling design.

Faren eyed the paper. "No common thug would use such expensive parchment."

Logan took it from Shiori's hand. "We'll keep this on hand for farther pending investigation. Thank you for bringing this to my attention, I think I might be able to find a few leads."

"So, Alixia," Shiori began, a burning question in her mind. "You've never done mesmer magic before?"

The mouse girl tilted her head. Logan raised one eyebrow at the statement. "No," she breathed after a pause in thought. "I have not. I've seen it before."

Logan smiled in amusement. "Sounds like from what you told me about the wall, you may have a gift for it."

"I...I suppose," she said looking down at the floor. "Never had much money to train for anything really."

Shiori grabbed her wrist. "Come to my manor."

Logan waved goodbye to the two as Shiori pulled the young girl down the street up Manor Hill. Alixia gawked at the large luxurious houses before her. Never had she been up here before. Shiori chuckled at the wide-eyed girl as she opened the door to her quaint manor. "Hope you enjoy it."

The street mouse snapped out of her daze, looking at Shiori with apprehension. "I've only lived in the Queen's Heart Orphanage."

A pause. Shiori's hand froze on the doorknob. This girl had nothing. Absolutely nothing to her. Barely any money. Boots too big for her, clothes torn and dirty, no parents; yet she was willing to help her out and find Faren. Truly, a diamond in the rough. She resumed opening the door. "Come," she gestured to her inside. The mouse was careful to step into the house.

"Cassidia," Shiori called down the hallway. "Prepare a bath please. No scents."

The servant bowed as she came out of the kitchen. She was startled to see a dirty street girl next to Lady Shiori. "Oh, of course, right away Milady."

Shiori pointed to Alixia's boots. "Remove those please." The noble walked down the hallway and into the kitchen.

Cassidia appeared from the bathroom and took Alixia's hand. "This way."

Shiori prowled around the kitchen in search of food. Red grapes, one type of cheese, white bread no longer hot out of the oven, and the tons of sweet chocolate were all that was left from Lord Faren's party. She piled the remaining food onto a small plate from the party trays and walked upstairs to her bedroom. She set the tray down on her silk bed and rummaged through her closet for some clothes for the girl to wear. A simple skirt with a ruffled shirt would do for her. She grabbed her only silk robe and marched downstairs to the bathroom.

Sitting in the warm water was Alixia, Cassidia scrubbing the girl down. Shiori set down the change of clothes and presented the plate of food to Alixia. "Here, you must be starving."

Alixia eyed the tray with a hunger. She lifted her hand up from the water and dried it on a cloth hanging off the side of the tub and grabbed a soft sweet raspberry chocolate off the tray. She took a bite immediately, the sweet and tart taste flooding her tongue. Shiori watched her in curiosity. Alixia took another piece of chocolate off the plate, and another, and another.

Once she was cleaned up, with the dirt on her face gone, her hair brushed till smoothed, Alixia put on the clothes Shiori gave her. Shiori stepped back and looked over her. She was not a mouse anymore.

The noble once she put the girl to bed for the night and bid farewell to Cassidia, wrote down the burning words left on the expensive parchment on a stray piece of paper.

_Take the prisoners to the Saboteur. She'll know what to do with them._

Who exactly was the Saboteur? Why did they want to kidnap Faren of all people? Shiori wondered if this issue was more deep seated in the Krytan Nobility than it appeared.

And yet, she was annoyed. Local politics and the whatnot were interfering with her main goal of going to sought out the Elder Dragons and awaken as the Chosen did 250 years ago. Her ancestor had a hand in so many things, including the fate of the world, yet she was stuck here, unable to leave again until this issue with the bandits was resolved.

She sighed and looked to the fake wall of her house. What books in there were about Krytan politics being dealt with by her ancestor? Logan said he would look into it more, and she had faith in the devoted captain.

But it was curious, why was he suddenly invested in investigating kidnappings like this so much he would take the evidence out of her hands?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for being one day late. I've been so tired from recent medical ailments I just completely forgot.


	4. Duty

_Chapter 4: Duty_

* * *

"Wake up Gwyneth, sun is about to rise," Melaine shook the warrior awake. "Occam's house is just by the beach. Let's get going."

Gwyneth opened her eyes. She had a long dreamless sleep. The first since she had awoken. The world came into focus. Dawn was approaching on the horizon, but the night was still there. The stone walls of the Haven were confining to the Valiant. A single window to the outside was all she had to see the purple sky.

"What happened?" Gwyneth asked with a yawn. She got only a couple hours of sleep at most.

"Nightmare Courtiers are prowling around these parts. Come, we must see to it that Occam is okay," Melaine informed her, watching the outside from the doorway.

Gwyneth stood up, grabbing her greatsword from its resting place by her cot. "Let's go."

The two walked out of the haven and down to the beach. A small green house sat by the hill, with a small vined fence around it. Curiously, a familiar white-haired sylvari was standing on the beach.

"Caithe?" Gwyneth called the firstborn to attention.

"Hmm?" Caithe turned around. "Gwyneth, Melaine. How unexpected. Nightmare courtiers attacked Brigid's Overlook. I came to investigate. What are you doing here?"

"They attacked here specifically?" Melaine questioned, her hand moving to the handle of her sword. "That does not bode well."

Gwyneth held her breath. Hopefully, no one was hurt in the attack. "We came to see Occam, but he's not here. He forged special armor for Bercilak. It may be the reason he's so powerful."

Caithe looked at the front entrance to Occam's house. "I see signs of a fight...but no blood upon the ground. This smith was kidnapped, not killed."

Indeed, the front was a mess. Footprints in the sand scattered about, papers and tools tossed around, and a lone human-made hammer laid on the ground.

Gwyneth picked up the hammer. "This was used as a weapon," she observed, balancing it in her grip. Melaine walked inside the house and found an open ledger sitting on a table.

"Find anything?" Caithe asked the dark sylvari.

Melaine scanned the purchases. "There's an entry for Duchess Faolain commissioning a suit of green armor, marked 'payment pending'."

Caithe's eyes narrowed and went dark at the name of Duchess Faolain. Gwyneth had never seen the Firstborn seem so dark with disdain for a name before. "The court must have stolen the armor rather than giving the smith payment."

Gwyneth noticed behind a bunch of leaves a sylvari-built hammer made of vines and a blue rock. "Hmm, this hammer was hidden in a hurry. I wonder why."

"The Nightmare Court kidnapped him, probably to force him to make more armor for them," Melaine growled, her shoulders tight, her hand twitching towards her weapon on her belt. "We have to…"

"Shh, someone's coming," Caithe warned, looking around. Her ears twitched as she heard footsteps in the distance.

The three ducked down beneath the window sills. The sand crunched beneath the feet of the strangers coming over to the house. Gwyneth peeked over the sill to see who was approaching.

"Bah! That sniveling smith refuses to work without his own tools," one of the strangers, a knight in rotten leafy armor, threw his hands up into the air in annoyance.

"Don't waste time complaining. If we don't return soon, the Duchess will flay us and make a winter cloak," the other courtier berated her comrade.

Melaine's eyes narrowed at the voice. "Courtier Elisaid," she whispered with a deep-rooted hatred.

Gwyneth wondered why the two night blooms hated the Nightmare Court so much. She grabbed her greatsword and left her hiding place to face the invaders head on.

"Gwyneth wait!" Melaine reached out for the Valiant but she was too slow.

"Come and fight me, cowards!" Gwyneth charged the two courtiers, slamming the complaining one down.

"Valiant please!" Caithe exclaimed, following after the hot-blooded warrior.

Elisaid pulled out her sword in response to Gwyneth's charge. The courtier's eyes trailed over to the Firstborn. Gwyneth then pushed her down to the ground, knocking her weapon out of reach. The courtier looked over the Valiant before her, a smirk on her lips.

"Well, look at this. You're Caithe—you're the one Duchess Faolain talks about! She'll be delighted to hear you're still alive," Elisaid turned her head to Melaine. "The Night Thorn also speaks of you."

Caithe, as fast as a night stalker, grabbed the collarbone of Elisaid, her voice low and dangerous as her venomous glare focused on the courtier's eyes. "Speak her name again, and I'll cut it from your tongue. Now, tell me where they've taken the smith." Her blade traced the skin of the pale-faced courtier.

"The Duchess commissioned a suit of enchanted armor from Occam. She wanted it for Bercilak, our newest knight. The armor was so magnificent that Her Grace ordered us to come back here and invite the smith to join her court," Elisaid explained, eying the blade touching her neck.

Melaine grabbed the other courtier and shoved him over to Caithe. "An invitation he undoubtedly wasn't allowed to refuse, right?" The dark sylvari looked away from the court.

Gwyneth's blood ran cold. "We have to rescue Occam!" She pleaded. "Where did you take him?"

Caithe turned to look Gwyneth in the eyes, blade still on Elisaid's neck. "Probably their camp in Dolorous Vale. In any case," the Firstborn turned back to the smirking Courtier. "They won't live to warn their friends."

The smirk was wiped off Elisaid's face. Caithe sliced the Courtier's neck; then using the same blade to stab into the other courtier's chest.

"Caithe! What…" Gwyneth watched in horror as the two sylvari corpses slumped down to the sand. Golden sap—their blood—spilled forth from their wounds and dripped over their wilted armor. The warrior's stomach churned. Never had she expected Caithe to blatantly murder one of their own, let alone two. "Why did you just…kill them?"

"A necessary action to quell their numbers," Caithe explained as if she were reading from a simple book for children. "They won't be running off to warn the camp."

Melaine remained indifferent to the firstborn's words. "She spoke of the Night Thorn…" she muttered under her breath.

Gwyneth couldn't stop staring at the two corpses. A sinking feeling in her stomach bubbled up in her throat.

"We must not dwell on far-gone souls," Caithe said, putting her blades back on her belt. "We must save Occam."

Gwyneth looked to Melaine, who only pointed in the direction of the Nightmare Court camp.

The three sylvari walked into the forest in uneasy silence. Gwyneth couldn't stand it for very long.

"So what's the plan?" the warrior queried.

"You and Caithe will hide in the shadows," Melaine spoke, her voice just above a whisper. "I will go in and be the distraction."

A path led up in-between boulders covered in moss. The rushing roar of a waterfall could be heard in the distance. Sinister thorned hounds patrolled the primer of the boulders blocking the way to the camp hidden within.

A chill shuddered its way up Gwyneth's spine. Melaine leaped ahead with her sword and killed the hounds patrolling in one swift strike. "Ready?"

Caithe raised her hand. "Yes." With a flick of the wrist, the firstborn and valiant were cloaked in stealth. It was like a thin veil was draped over Gwyneth. She couldn't even see her own hands.

Hiding behind the boulder, the two watched as Melaine walked right into the camp covered in red prickly thorns. Courtiers stood around, tending to the hounds or discussing their next twisted deed.

"Do you think they'll kill him? If they did that, then he wouldn't be able to make them any more suits of armor," Gwyneth whispered to Caithe, watching Melaine with a close eye.

"Kill? No. The court increases their numbers through deceit and corruption. They spread poison at the roots. Eventually, he will listen to them, and then he will fall to their lies," Caithe explained. "It is the Court's purpose to poison the Dream of Dreams, and thus corrupt the Pale Tree. The darkness we saw in your dream was one such attempt. They torture sylvari, allowing the Dream to absorb darker, more painful memories—both from themselves and their prey. Now hush, we must watch and listen."

Melaine opened her arms wide to the Courtiers. "Greetings fellow Court. I have heard the Night Thorn has been looking for me?"

The houndmaster perked up from the pups begging for attention. A wicked smile graced her lips. "Well well, Melaine the Wretched. Come to our fold at last?"

"Yes. Your Night Thorn will be pleased, no doubt?" Melaine dropped her weapons in front of the courtiers.

Gwyneth itched for the warden greatsword on her back. Caithe inched closer to the entrance. "Wait for it."

"Yes. He will be pleased. Watch the Wretched. I will inform the Night Thorn by the falls," the houndmaster ran off deeper into the camp.

Melaine placed one hand behind her back. Her two slender fingers gestured forward.

"Move quietly and quickly Valiant. We do not have much leeway," Caithe warned, moving into the camp with light feet. Gwyneth followed after her, staring at her feet more than what was in front of her.

"The Night Thorn I cannot make of, what is he like?" Melaine questioned, buying the Firstborn and valiant some time.

"He is indifferent to everything. That's what makes him so terrifying," one courtier explained, stars in her eyes. "I wish he would speak of me often like he does with you."

Caithe moved behind the Courtier. "Too bad he won't." She stabbed her dagger into the neck of the Courtier. The Nightmare Courtier collapsed to the ground, dead. The stealth on Caithe and Gwyneth disappeared and rendered the two visible once again.

Melaine picked up her sword and pistol at the feet of the Courtier.

"It's Caithe and the Valiant! Stop them!" A Nightmare kennelmaster grabbed his whip off a rotten tree stump and lashed at the hounds, spurning them into action.

Gwyneth grabbed her greatsword just in time to block the growling hound's pounce. Its teeth gripped the blade with malice. Gwyneth pushed back on the hound and cut it down with one slice.

"Help! Anyone there?" a voice in a cage of thorns called out to the three dreamers.

Gwyneth sliced down another nightmare hound and ran over to the cage of thorns. A grey-skinned sylvari wearing a leather apron was within. He seemed unfazed or wounded.

"You're Occam, right?" Gwyneth asked, kicking a hound off her foot.

The smith nodded. "Indeed. There's a back entrance. Unfortunately, the Night Thorn has the key to this cell."

Gwyneth looked at the thorns blocking the way out of the cell. She lifted her greatsword up into the air and brought it down on the vines. The foliage shrank into nothing, freeing its prisoner.

Occam stepped out. "Ah, freedom."

Gwyneth nodded. "Glad to see you are still with us."

The smith shook his head. "I knew someone would come for me, so I had to stay resolute."

Gwyneth pointed towards the back entrance. "Let's go!"

"Wait Gwyneth…" Melaine tried to stop her from running headlong into the remaining court but it was too late.

Standing in the way was a dark barked sylvari. A skull rested on his shoulder. His leafy robes were a putrid green, purple, and red. In the darkness of the camp, his veins glowed red.

"Ah, Melaine. You brought friends," the nightmare courtier spoke with a speck of amusement in his tone.

"The Night Thorn," Melaine growled, her sword pointed at the red and black sylvari.

"If you wanted the key to Occam's cell, you could have just asked," the Night Thorn added, dangling the key in front of Gwyneth.

"Get down!" Caithe rolled in and tossing a smoke bomb. The courtiers coughed as the thick smoke filled the air.

Melaine grabbed Gwyneth and Caithe grabbed Occam, leading them out of the camp and into Bay Haven.

"Thank you for saving me," Occam said, trying to catch his breath within the walls of the haven.

Gwyneth caught her breath, wondering if her lungs inhaled any of the smoke bomb. "I have to ask, Occam—why did you make Faolain the armor? Didn't you know she was of the Nightmare Court?"

"I knew, but she threatened me." Occam looked at his palms, a brief flash of fear in the muscles of his face. "Said they'd break my hands, leave me useless. Take away my purpose and my joy."

The warrior looked to her own hands. She couldn't imagine what it would be like to lose the very thing that drove one's wills. Imagining where she was rendered unable to fight was horrifying.

Occam crossed his arms. "Still, once I saw what they'd done with my masterwork...Ugh. Disgusting. I should have thrown myself from the cliffs."

Gwyneth looked up in surprise to the smith. He would have rather died than…

"No," Caithe shook her head. "The lesson here isn't so simple. There are many strands in this tapestry, and yours is only one. Now, to deal with Bercilak."

"My hammer is the only weapon that can beat that armor," Occam explained. "I hid it from the Court. The armor had to be vulnerable to my tools in order to forge it."

"Gwyneth," Melaine turned to the warrior. "How are you with hammers?"

The sapling shrugged. "Um…Never used one."

Melaine placed a finger on her chin, a chilling smirk growing on her lips. "We're about to extend a personal invitation for a duel."

* * *

The sun was lowering on the horizon. Ventry Bay glowed from the specks of sunlight peeking out from the walls of the Dominion of Winds to the east. Bay Haven sat on the end of the lake, the shadows of the Dominion creeping to the stone fort. Gwyneth sat on the shores of Mabon Market, staring as dragonflies caressed the calm waters.

Melaine, ever the shadow, silently walked over to the contemplating warrior and tapped her shoulder. "Our favorite green knight is here."

Gwyneth nodded and stood up, cracking her muscles and shoulders. "I'm ready." She strode into the market, her blood rushing through her veins. The suffering of saplings and lovers would end, right here.

The people of the market gathered to see what the commotion was about.

"What is going on?" an asura merchant questioned.

The Wardens stood in a row, alert. "The plants around here are on edge. That's not a good sign," one commented.

"Keep your eyes and ear open. We will protect this place from anything that attacks, even the Nightmare Court," the Warden Captain told his troops.

Occam stood a distance away from the sparring ring in the sand. In his grip was his hammer. Gwyneth recognized it from when it was hurriedly hidden in his house. He presented the hammer to the Valiant. "It will do the task," he said with not an ounce of joy.

Gwyneth took it into her hands. She gave it a trial swing. It was definitely heavy. "This will make a marvelous weapon. That Bercilak will no longer be able to bully and kill any more saplings after this."

Melaine watched in silence. Caithe waved to the valiant. "Good luck, Gwyneth."

Gairwen watched by the side of the Firstborn. "Avenge my love for me!"

Dagdar and Eladus stood by the Wardens. "Beat him to a pulp for us!" the two shouted.

Gwyneth nodded with a smile. "I will."

Bercilak stood in the sparring ring, his feet planted in the sand. "The Night Thorn told me about you. Once you're out of the way, the Wretched will be next."

Gwyneth's eye twitched. No one threatens her friend, ever. "Bercilak! Are you ready to fight yet? Like a true warrior? Or you going to flee and hide behind your armor like a coward?"

"A flimsy sprout like you will never defeat me. Even so, I'll teach you one final lesson—in pain," Bercilak fell into his battle stance. His twisted thorn sword and shield was at the ready.

"Me? Flimsy?" The newborn warrior glared him down. "This rose has thorns. And here. They. Are!" She charged at the knight, hammer held high.

Bercilak laughed, like a crazed killer. "Occam's hammer? Do you think I really need my magic armor to beat you? You'll see."

With a battle cry, Gwyneth jumped up and bashed the hammer's head right into Bercilak's helm, knocking him back into the sand. He placed a hand on his head, dizzy from the attack. "What the…"

A purple sylvari in black and white armor heard the commotion by the market on her patrol. She stood behind the asura merchants, watching the duel unfold.

Gwyneth raised the hammer again, this time swinging for Bercilak's gut as the knight struggled to stand back up and raise his shield. "You will not harm anyone anymore!" the warrior declared.

Bercilak snarled in pain. He stabbed his sword forward at her. Her hammer collided with his hand instead, knocking the twisted blade from his grip and crushing his knuckles. She spinned around and dealt another heavy blow to his already dented helm.

Blood rushed to his head. He staggered about. "You…You can't defeat me...how is this possible? I will slay you all!"

"Your armor cannot protect you here," Gwyneth spoke. "Justice is always served to those who bully and hide behind cowardice."

She lifted the hammer again, dealing one final blow to his neck.

The wicked knight collapsed to the ground.

Dagdar, Eladus, and Gairwen cheered for Gwyneth's victory. Caithe ran over to inspect the body of the knight in the ring.

Gwyneth took a breath, wiping the sweat off her forehead. She turned back to Occam, who clapped in thanks. She presented the hammer back to the smith.

"Bercilak won't be using that armor anymore to bully people," Gwyneth said with a smile.

Occam grinned. "Thank you, I am in your debt, truly."

The warrior shook her head. "No, I'm just happy to be able to save innocent lives from a monster such as that." A new and startling thought plagued her. "Won't you be sought out to make new armor for the Nightmare Court?"

Occam nodded. "I will, but I would prefer to stay out here, away from the crowds of the Grove. There's more adventure out here anyways. You've shown me how to fight them, now I will."

"Be wary, Occam. Grand Duchess Faolain will soon find another way to draw the Dream into darkness, and then none of us will be safe. It is her way," Caithe warned, a venomous glint in her eye.

Melaine's hand brushed against the handle of her twisted purple blade. "The Nightmare Court never cease…"

Valiant Gwyneth tilted her head. "Sounds like you have some history with this Grand Duchess Faolain. Did you know her well?"

Caithe looked away. "I knew her once...but I don't know her anymore." A pause. Gwyneth stared at the firstborn gazing off into the sky. Caithe shook her head. "Never mind. You've done well, Valiant. Enjoy this moment. Like all victories, it will fade."

The letter in Melaine's pocket burned by the minute. "Excuse me; I have important business to attend to."

Gwyneth was too overjoyed with her victory to give much notice. "Okay Melaine. I will see you at the Grove?"

"Yes," the Lightbringer said, before disappearing into the night.

A clap snapped the warrior out of her internal victory dance. The purple sylvari in black armor approached and bowed to her. "Impressive skills with a hammer, Valiant."

Gwyneth bowed back. "Thank you. And you are?"

"I'm Branthyn of the Vigil. We're a military organization that seeks out the Elder Dragons to protect innocents. You'd make a fine recruit among our ranks," the soldier explained.

Caithe spotted the eagerness on Gwyneth's face. "Valiant, they might lead you to your Wyld Hunt, but I must warn you, we still have to see to your other visions first."

That stopped the hot-blooded warrior in her place. "Oh, right." She turned to Branthyn. "I will have to respectfully decline the Vigil's offer for now. I have more to do and see before I am ready."

The Vigil soldier bowed again. "Thank you. Our paths may indeed, cross again."

Caithe waved to the Valiant. "Now come, we must speak with the Pale Tree."

* * *

_Lightbringer,_

_An agent has gone missing a fortnight ago in the Nightmare Court. I suspect that they succumbed to the poisonous seed. The agent carries important secrets that shall not be shared with anyone. If they indeed have succumbed to Nightmare, bring them down. You're not the only one on this assignment, so beware of your allies and enemies._

_-P.V_

Melaine held the letter over a fire in a hylek camp, the embers of the paper sparking into the air.

Hatred surged through her blood once more.

* * *

Gwyneth was lifted by a pod up into the upper boughs of the Pale Tree. She had never been to the Omphalos Chamber before or even had any idea of what it looked like from the Dream. It was a massive hanging chamber made of plant matter all in one massive intertwined piece. Inside was Ventari's tablet hanging from a vine, and across from it was a glowing ethereal sylvari in a sprawling leafy dress.

The warmth radiated off of the sylvari, piercing Gwyneth's soul. "Mother Tree," she breathed.

Caithe stood by the sylvari, as if she too, was warmed by the presence of the Avatar of the Pale Tree.

The Avatar gestured to the newborn Valiant. "Come my child. Caithe has told me of your deeds. I'm so proud of you."

Gwyneth with haste walked over to the Avatar and kneeled before her. "I'm honored to meet you, Mother Tree. I dreamt of Bercilak and knew I would have to defeat him…However, I had many other visions that yet come to be."

"Yes, Caithe has also mentioned to me your Wyld Hunt," the Pale Tree added. Her voice was a pillowy caress to the ears. Mothering and gentle. "A terrifying task. A Wyld Hunt is a sacred thing, a burden placed by the Dream upon the strongest and bravest of my children. In your Dream, you fought an Elder Dragon face-to-face. Only two of my children have had such a dream. Yourself and Caithe."

"Do you…" The warrior paused, unsure if she should even ask. "Do you control the Dream?"

The Avatar shook her head. "No, my child. I am merely its caretaker."

That thought was a high burden. Not even her own mother gave her this task. But she would see it through. That was a promise.

"Fear not this night," the Pale Tree brought her out of her wandering thoughts. "I believe you shall prevail when you face this dragon. You may find consolation in your brother and sister, Trahearne and Caithe."

Gwyneth snapped her head up. "Trahearne? The Firstborn?"

"Indeed. I want you to meet him," the Pale Tree said.

Caithe was taken aback. "Are you sure? Trahearne has returned from Orr? Mother…is this wise?"

The Avatar raised a hand to calm the curious Firstborn. "Do not question the Dream. We must all play our parts."

With an unquestioning devotion, Caithe agreed. "Yes Mother, I will see to it."

Gwyneth felt a hand upon her shoulder. She turned to see Niamh before her. "I'm proud of you Valiant," the Luminary of Noon said with a wide grin. "I wish you luck on future endeavors."

"Oh, you're not my mentor anymore?" Gwyneth asked. Niamh shook her head.

"No, dear sprout. Trahearne and Caithe give much more counsel on your path down a great destiny. Until battle comes once more to challenge you, may you be at peace," Niamh saluted to her, leaving to exit the Omphalos Chamber.

The warrior stood in the center of the Omphalos Chamber, looking at the tablet and absorbing all that was said. Trahearne, the very first sylvari to walk from the Pale Tree, was to be her guidance?

"Where life goes, so too should you," she muttered to herself, still staring at the tablet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm a little bit early this time to compensate for last week's accidental delay and my health has cleared up a great deal. One more chapter for this part!


	5. An Oath

Shiori slapped down a money pouch onto the table before Alixia. The girl had half a piece of toast in her mouth as her eyes bulged at the money.

"For you, lessons for a mesmer teacher," Shiori said. "You may stay in my home while you're training."

The toast almost fell out of Alixia's mouth. "But…But why?" she said, trying to chew her food.

A smile graced Shiori's lips. "Because you have potential, and I owe you for helping me track down those bandits."

"Where would I even find a mesmer teacher?" Alixia asked, eying the money with unease.

"Hmm, there are plenty in the city. You'll find one, I have faith," Shiori said.

A knock on the door. Cassidia came into the dining room. "Lord Faren is here."

Dread filled the elementalist. She knew Faren would not be so quick to forget his curiosity about her departure.

"Lady Shiori!" Lord Faren exclaimed as he stood in the doorway. "I must speak with you as to why you're so keen to avoid my burning inquires."

Shiori left her dining room, leaving Alixia to stare at her half-eaten toast and a bundle of money.

"Faren…" Shiori began as the nosy nobleman leaned in closer. "I left because there's something out there."

"Centaurs? Oh those dastardly bandits, maybe pirates and…" Faren listed off every known common annoyance in Kryta.

She had to cut him off. "No, Faren. Elder Dragons. What's a common thug compared to a horde of undead?"

"I mean, there is Palawa Joko in Elona…"

"Besides Palawa Joko. At any rate, Faren, there's something out there and it threatens everyone, not just Kryta or Queen. Thugs and bandits are a problem, but they would no longer be our problem if the world doesn't exist anymore."

"How are you even going to attempt to fight them? Milady fighting centaurs is one thing, but a giant…unknown thing is a different matter altogether. Captain Thackeray tried five years ago…"

"I…I intend to find out, Faren. Someone has to find out somehow, and if the Chosen of the Flameseeker Prophecies from centuries ago, my ancestor, was able to save many lives though impossible means, then that's what I should do, for better or worse. For Kryta and Queen. For Tyria and home." Shiori stood her ground. She was not going to let Faren's concern prevent her leave.

Faren stood there, stunned. "Milady…I….I think you're the perfect candidate for finding your calling. You weren't very content at my gatherings anyways, now were you."

The blood-haired shook her head with a chuckle. "No, I was always restless, you know this."

Faren blinked his eyes. Water welled up on the edges. "I'll miss you, Lady Shiori."

"And I as well, Lord Faren," Shiori said with a salute. "But, make sure my friend Alixia is okay here while she trains, please. Oh and watch over my estate."

"Of course Shiori!" Faren smiled. "I eagerly await your return."

"Shiori," Alixia said from the dining room. "I uh, I want to go find a mesmer teacher, but I need armor first."

"Hmm, good point, Alixia," Shiori mused, thinking. The girl would need some sort of elegance to her wardrobe if she is to enchant and delight her enemies. "What is your favorite color?"

"The um," Alixia thought about it for a moment. "The color of a lapis gemstone."

"Oh my, a lovely color indeed. I know of a tailor, I'll show you to her," Shiori informed her.

"I'd best be off then," Lord Faren said, waving Shiori and Alixia off. "Have fun ladies!"

Alixia sighed once the nobleman was out of sight of the stairs. "He hides his pain too easily."

Understatement of the year.

* * *

_5 Years Previously…_

A green sylvari in autumn leaves sat by a dying hearth. Pale green vines twisted up his arms, his head of leaves matching the hue of the vines. A tail of large orange ferns rested off his hips. His boots made from the sturdiest of branches and petals were worn down almost to the soles. He made a mental note to replace them when he returned home to Mother.

The sky was clouded, rolling flashes of small lightning thundered through the puffs. The waves of the sea were nonexistent in the distance from where he rested.

Trahearne scribbled more in his journal, careful not to have the pen make too much noise. The eerie crackle and scuttle of insects and lightning were all he could hear besides his own breath.

Beside him was his only companion, a golem made of flesh and bone from the dead. Its large bone horn poked around the air, listening and sensing for any undead.

The Firstborn stared at his parchment, reading over his recently scribbled notes as the ink dried.

"The undead seem to be more susceptible to my necromantic powers, but in what capacity I do not know. My flesh golem seems to have the best effect, after testing a flesh wurm and fleshlings on a Risen Abomination. Findings not clear. I will need more testing. Perhaps I should bring a variety of artifacts used by other professions next visit."

A loud flap of wings caught his attention. He looked up to the sky in his little hidden nook of Orr, coral surrounding his camp but leaving an open skylight for him to see the desolate clouds up above. A dragon flew overhead. The wings were small, only a lieutenant of Zhaitan's.

The sylvari leaned back onto his pallet, letting out a sigh he didn't know he was holding. His hand pressed against the cold earth. A slow pulse breathed underneath his palm. It was the only reminder to him that Orr was still a living place, corrupted by a monstrosity who feeds off the dead.

He drifted off to slumber with the heat of the hearth keeping him warm.

Zing. Trahearne sat right up in a panic, startling the flesh golem standing watch. That noise was not normal. He only heard it a few times before, but he recognized it all too easily. He picked up his journal and shoved it into a leather bag and flung it on his back. He raised a hand to tell his golem to heel like a fern hound. Oh how he would love to have a fern hound in this dreadful nation, but it was no space for a lovable creature like that. Trahearne moved into the crack of the coral, his flesh golem sitting behind to watch camp. A skull scepter and a dagger on his belt, he nestled between the dead trees and the coral to watch before his eyes an amazing sight.

An eye carried by corpses mended together floated on by, towards the Cathedral of Verdance. He had to investigate the Eye, and what it could do. His natural curiosity compelling him forward, he left his safe little corner of Orr and followed the Eye from a great distance.

Risen thralls wandered the area, limping with their hammers and shovels in their grip. Trahearne with a wave of his scepter silenced the ones who saw him approaching. The undead fell to the ground one by one, their calls for their comrades choked in their throats. He was no thief or mesmer, but necromancy still had its benefits.

The road towards the cathedral would be littered with thralls. He had to find another way.

A river filled with undead corruption and tar flowed straight up to the cathedral's heart. The necromancer grabbed his aquabreather out of his bag and put it on before wading into the shallow waters of the still river, only catching the attention of tar elementals on the banks. Some risen drakes swam about, but his scepter crunched down on its snout and sent it to the bottom of the river floor.

The Eye ascended to the upper floor of what was left of the Cathedral of Verdance. A ruined statue of the human goddess Melandru sat at the top of the floor, pulsing out a corruption that prickled the toes of all non-Risen passersby. Trahearne dove down under the cover of the oily river and climbed up onto a small slab of worn stone. Each step could be his last. He moved forward underneath the cathedral. Small spiders scattered about, trying to nip at his leafy shoes. He squished them with his foot, his breathing uneven. He looked up to the top floor, wondering if the Eye heard the noise. Thorns grew around him and along the walls he hugged, the corruption of Melandru's statue potent.

"Destiny's Edge is destroyed. The Elder Crystal Dragon has awoken," a deep, ghastly voice spoke from the Eye of Zhaitan.

Trahearne raised an eyebrow in curiosity, but also a lingering fear. What happened to his sister? Was Caithe alright?

"Zhaitan will have nothing to fret about from those pathetic mortals," the Eye continued, speaking to its comrade. Trahearne moved out of his cover a little bit to see what the Eye was talking to.

A giant risen human, twisted into a large inhuman sized creature, carried a mace in its grip as it absorbed the information from the Eye of Zhaitan. From the ancient clothing it wore, barely covering itself, Trahearne had to conclude it was the Priest of Melandru from the living days of Orr. The Eye had its back to the firstborn.

"Good. None shall defeat us," the risen priest answered.

"However many will try," the Eye of Zhaitan added. "And will fail, like that creature below, watching us."

Risen spiders came crawling down the coral and metal bridges towards the necromancer. He slide out from underneath his hiding place and backed away from the heart of the cathedral. The Eye of Zhaitan turned around and shot a purple beam at the sylvari. Trahearne lifted his scepter and the beam collided with the skull. Dagger in hand, he planted himself firmly in his stance and allowed his necromancy to surge through his veins. Blood and life force burst from the spiders and thralls and absorbed into his fist. The Eye focused the beam harder and harder on Trahearne. His scepter began to crack from the pressure. The magic overflowed to his arm causing it to go numb. He twitched his muscles but felt pins and needles jab at the skin from his wrist up.

This was exactly what he wanted. He let go of his scepter and raised his dagger at the Eye and the Risen Priest. The scepter shattered, the beam from the Eye of Zhaitan interrupted. He sent all of his aches and pains right at the Eye, relieving his arm of the pins and needles. The life force absorbed into his palms, Trahearne unleashed the blood magic within. His eyes glowed white as his entire body was coated in wisps of pure black smoke. Within his new form, he was able to absorb even more life energy from the onslaught of Risen minions charging at him from the cathedral. With a snap of his fingers, the afflictions he returned to the Eye of Zhaitan jumped to the Risen Abominations and the Priest of Melandru.

"Get the mortal!" the Eye screamed, summoning forth more Risen spiders, drakes, and abominations.

The Priest of Melandru charged at the sylvari with his mace swinging. "Allow me!"

Still covered in his shroud, he knew a losing battle when he saw one. Dagger in hand, he turned tail and sprinted away from the Cathedral of Verdance. The dagger pulsed with necrotic energy and absorbed the life force of nearby risen targets. Trahearne ran as fast as he legs could carry him. The wandering undead noticed the small sylvari charge past them, following suit after the Priest of Melandru.

"This one, kill!" a thrall shouted, struggling to keep up by the side of the priest.

Trahearne ran across the open field of ruins, spotting the black Harrowed Sea. If he could just get far enough from the cathedral he would only have to deal with the Risen priest's entourage.

His throat dry, his legs on fire from the sprint across the plains, Trahearne dived straight into the waters Harrowed Sea. He had kept his aqua breather on in the event he would have to dive into the waters.

The Priest of Melandru stopped in his tracks. "After him!" He pointed to the sea, his minions moving forth into it without question.

Trahearne swam and swam farther into the depths of the sea. The shroud wore off. He turned around and channeled his dagger at the thralls following him into the water, killing them. He took his spear out from its resting place on his back and summoned forth an undead shark, much like his own flesh golem. The shark bit into the leg of the last thrall and tossed it out of the water.

The firstborn continued swimming deeper and deeper as his shark finished off the remaining risen.

In the bottom of the sea was a shipwreck he stumbled upon years ago, which with some poking around he discovered to be the shipwreck of the Golden Vanity. It had sunk when the Cataclysm of Orr happened over 250 years ago, caught by misfortune of being so close to the western Orr borders.

Recent debris washed in over the shipwreck that was unfamiliar to the necromancer. A large metal cage-like structure leaned against the ship.

Something blinded him on the sea floor next to the cage. Twin blades, not rusted.

A voice muffled by a mask and the thick musty waters spoke from the cage. "A live person here of all places?"

Trahearne was no longer propelled by his flight or fight response, but by his curiosity. He never expected to see anyone of the living in Orr, ever.

He swam down to see inside the cage. A figure with a face-mask and white hair was trapped inside the cage. "Please, I ask for your aid in retrieving my weapons and freeing me with them," the woman asked. "They can cut through this metal better than lifting it."

He nodded, looking at her twin blades on the ocean floor.

"You must be swift," the woman warned in her cool tone. He turned around and saw his shark charging at another pack of risen, and they came with weapons.

Trahearne swam down to grab the blades but was taken away by a rope latching onto his ankle. He struggled as he was pulled to the risen pack. Risen sharks swam over to take a bite out of his verdure limbs. He stabbed his spear into one shark, pulling it out and sucking the life force into his grip and pulsing it into a well, healing his stab wounds and afflicting the risen surrounding him. The risen thralls jabbed at him with their hammers and shovels. One necromantic risen summoned its own undead shark and it charged straight at him. It bashed him in the head, but he was able to dodge back in the water to avoid most of the damage.

Most. His aquabreather was cracked to pieces by the force of the shark's fins. Trahearne held his breath. Sucking all the life force out his foes in a desperate effort to survive, his shroud reappeared over his body. The one risen that had pulled him away from the twin blades floated limp in the water. He struggled to cut the rope attaching his leg to the risen with his dagger. The shark golem aided by chewing through the rope.

More risen were coming, as the sylvari noticed in the dark depths of the far distance in the Sea of Sorrows. His breath became shorter as he finally broke free of the rope and swam down with what little shroud he had left to protect him. The woman in the cages had her hand out to him.

He grabbed the twin blades and handed them to her. His lungs burned in his chest. She cut through the metal like it was parchment. Choking on his own breath, he swam desperately to the surface, the woman following suit.

Fresh air filled his lungs like a cool glass of water. Trahearne coughed up the water in his throat, trying to keep afloat in the Sea of Sorrows. A piece of floating rotten wood meandered over to him. He latched onto it for dear life, leaning his elbows and forearms on the driftwood, dagger still in hand. Air never felt this good to him before.

The woman swam to the surface beside the necromancer. On her back, now that the firstborn could see it, was a massive pair of blue leathery wings. Her eyes were obscured by a foggy blue in her mask, but he could still make them out.

"I thank you for risking your life to save my own," the winged female spoke. She was no human.

Trahearne was still gasping for air. "You're…welcome."

She looked him over like he was prey to be slaughtered, sending a chill down his spine. "I have not seen your kind before in my travels. What is your name?"

"My…name is…" he stopped and cleared his hoarse throat. "Trahearne. I'm a sylvari. We come from the Tarnished Coast of the Sea of Sorrows."

"Interesting. Your bodies are bioluminescent," she looked pointedly at his glowing features under the cloud of night. A purple hue seeped through his veins.

"Yes, it helps us when there is no light in the darkness," Trahearne explained, studying the person before him.

"I see you have not seen my kind. I am a largos, we come from the depths of the Unending Ocean. You may call me Sayeh al' Rajihd," the largos bowed to him.

"A pleasure, Sayeh al' Rajihd," Trahearne gave a bow of his head in return.

"I am bound by oath in return for you saving my life from the dragon's minions," Sayeh explained. "But I must ask, why are you here in this desolate place so close to the dragon?"

The firstborn let out a chuckle. "I am a scholar of Orr you could say. I was tasked with restoration of this land from the dragon's corruption. An impossible task."

"Interesting. A tough task for sure, but not impossible," Sayeh looked towards the land of the undead.

Trahearne wanted to laugh. "Heh, you're the first one to believe that it is tangible. Not even my brothers and sisters believe it so." Not even Caithe, who dreamed of fighting against an Elder Dragon, believed his Wyld Hunt was even possible.

"An impossible task is only impossible if one believes it so," Sayeh said, tone ever unchanging. "May our paths cross again, Trahearne."

Trahearne, for the first time in a long while, smiled. "May they cross again, indeed, Sayeh al' Rajihd."

* * *

_Present Day_

Walking through a graveyard in the northern Harathi Hinterlands, an asura with light grey floppy ears and layered red hair with a magical headband stared at her magic reader. Behind her was a sylvari with cherry hair and steel blue robes, her nose in a scroll.

"I cannot believe it Myii!" the sylvari lamented, following the asura without concern for the ruins beneath her feet. "That Saul D'Alessio of the White Mantle's tomb is empty! Perhaps the body was stolen by looters, nasty people not caring about history or the dead. We came out here to find it and no body left inside. Such a waste."

The magic reader in Myii's hands beeped. "Sieran, I think I found something."

The cherry-haired sylvari put down her scroll to lean over the asura' shoulder. "Ooo, where, Myii?"

"Farther down this road towards err, the caverns," Myii pointed to the tunnel with wooden posts supporting it. A giant stood by.

"A giant! Oh I wonder if he's friendly…" Sieran walked with haste, curious to see what was inside the cavern.

The giant smiled at them. Myii's magic reader beeped faster. "Hello, travelers," the giant greeted. "I'm Fen."

Sieran waved. "Hello! We're exploring, is there anything in this cavern?"

The giant, who was too big to fit through the tunnel, nodded. "A river yes."

Myii looked up. "We're from the Durmand Priory. I'm Myii, this is Sieran."

"A pleasure. Go on ahead inside, but there are grubs and bats about, be careful. Oh and uh, I think a bandit and seraph are in there….hopefully okay," Fen gestured towards the tunnel.

The two scholars walked in together. The smell of mold and dampness flooded their noses. Myii wrinkled her nose while Sieran basked in the organic scents. It reminded her of Caledon Forest. Water dripped from the walls onto the gooey floor.

The magic reader beeped even faster.

The rush of the river's falls grew louder with each step. Grubs and bats pestered them but Sieran shocked them into submission.

Crossing the small river, the magic reader's beeping got louder as well as faster. Moss hung from the walls; blue luminescent mushrooms grew in the crevasses of the rocks.

The two stopped before a wall of rocks covered by moss and flowers. The magic reader was beeping like mad.

"It's through here," Myii stated.

"Well, thorns, how do we even get though? These rocks are huge and probably haven't been moved in centuries," Sieran said, tapping her finger on the rock to test its durability.

Myii smirked. She handed the sylvari her magic reader and cracked her knuckles. "That is why you have me, Sieran. Engineers always have a way with explosives."

Sieran tilted her head as she watched the asura place a big bomb of her own creation before the rocks.

The two stood back, Myii holding out a remote. "Hit the deck!" She said with a cackle as she pressed the detonate button.

Boom! The rocks went flying in all directions. The two scholars dived down to the ground, covering their heads. Dust filled the air, earning coughs from them.

Standing back up, Myii retrieved her magic reader from Sieran's hands. The cave opened up to a pitch black cave. Sieran lit a flame in her hand and ignited a torch for Myii to carry. The pathway was long and twisted like thorns curling around roots.

A streak of light cut through the darkness at last. The magic reader was off the charts, the beeps echoing off the walls. The cave opened up to a wide space covered in overgrowth and moss. Vines hung from the openings to the sky, obscuring the sunlight. Ruins from an ancient age sat about, worn from weather and disuse.

"Wow," Sieran gasped. "Pale Mother this is a rare find! When were these ruins from? Probably at least as old as the Krytan Civil War…Or even older." The sylvari took out a journal in her satchel and began scribbling down every single detail she could observe.

Myii looked about the ruins, trying to figure out where the artifact the reader was tracking. "I think these might be older than the age of the human gods. By the Eternal Alchemy…" Finding ruins like these was so rare in this day and age. The world was always changing, falling deeper into ruin, information lost to the tides of time.

"Where and what do you think this artifact is? Whatever it may be, it's pretty powerful from the readings you're gathering," Sieran said, walking up the overgrown steps. "This must have been a temple from several ages ago."

Myii followed after the sylvari. "Might even be as old as the age of the giganticus lupicus."

At the top of the stairs was a simple table covered in dirt. An odd looking pendant sat on the table, covered in dust and grime. Sieran reached out with her fingers to rub away the layer of dirt on the pendant. A zap from the pendant forced the sylvari to retreat.

"What is this?" Sieran said, shaking her hand out from the shock.

Myii jumped back as the stone table moved. It slid into the stone floor, and the pendant rose up. Connected to the pendant was a handle made of untarnished stone, never touched by age. Attached to the handle were golden wings spread apart, at least six of them. The blade that followed didn't even look like a blade; it appeared as just the daytime sky.

The asura and sylvari's jaws dropped at the magnificent weapon, untouched by age, sitting in the pedestal.

"What…what is this beautiful blade?" Sieran gasped. "Can we even pull it out?"

"I've heard of it vaguely," Myii said. "It's called Sunrise." The asura spat in her two palms and rubbed them together. She went to the sword and grasped her hands on the handle and pulled. No budging. It was either magically resistant to the person, or it simply was too heavy for the tiny asura to lift.

"Maybe we need someone stronger to pull it out?" Sieran suggested.

Myii smirked at her friend. "And I know just the person. To Vigil Keep!"

_End of Part I_


End file.
